Jason is what?
by spnfandom8
Summary: what happens when Bruce Wayne shows up at the White Collar offices? Why does he need to speak with Neal Caffrey? what has Neal been hiding from his team?


One-Shot

 **AN** Hello and welcome to my Batman and White Collar one-shot, I hope you enjoy! :)

I look up to see Peter, Jones and Diana walking towards me, and I quickly try to hurry up the conversation i'm having with Damian.

"Hey Dami, I have to go, work stuff" I tell him, not waiting on the 'goodbye' or the 'love you' that I know I won't be getting from him, but quickly muttering mine before hanging up.

The three of them are standing in front of my desk by the time i've said bye to Damian with puzzled expressions on their faces.

"What?" I ask, not sure what they would be confused about.

"Who were you talking to?" Peter asks after a moment.

"A friend" I answer

"Who you love?" he asks, one eyebrow going up in a questioning expression.

"Um, I don't know, it's just something I say? Goodbye, love you and then hangup, what's so weird about that?" I ask, trying to veer them away from the person I was talking to, and onto my inherent oddness.

After a moment they all seem to just excuse it as me being me, and then they finally get to the point of why they were here.

"You wanna come to lunch with us?" Diana asks

"Sure" I answer, plopping my pile of finished paperwork into the not finished pile, it would make them a bit suspicious if I just suddenly knew how to do the paperwork when i've been begging off doing paperwork because I don't know how for at least a year and a half now.

Instead I just finish my paperwork and then pretend to keep working on it the rest of the day, when i'm really just fucking around on my phone or drawing.

I collect my jacket and my hat before shooting them a joyful grin and rushing to the elevators, happy to finally get away from the monotony of paperwork for a while, not to mention I can probably convince them to walk, seeing as I legitimately hate working behind a desk, not being able to stretch my legs, or do literally anything fun, not that I don't find ways to spice up a boring day at work, but it's definitely not the same as my old line of work.

I stick my hand out to hold the elevator as I wait for the three of my friends to catch up so we can finally go and get some food, i'm fucking hungry.

I watch as Peter sends me an amused look as they board the elevator.

"You seem a little too excited to be going out to lunch today Neal, what's up?" he asks, perceptive as always.

"Nothing is up, I just had too much coffee and not enough moving this morning" I tell him truthfully.

"You sure?" Jones pipes up, sending my jittery figure an amused glance over his shoulder.

"Yeah, plus my gym is shut down for water damage right now and I haven't been able to get my workout in in a couple of days" I tell him, working to still my twitching body, I guess an all nighter plus 7 cups of coffee will do that to a person, especially when my body isn't used to doing shit like that anymore, at least not like it used to be.

"You go to the gym?" Diana asks incredulous.

"Yeah, there is an MMA gym just before my invisible cage cuts off, i've been going there for like a year and a half. I thought you guys checked my tracking data?" I ask, knowing that they used to, at least in the beginning, but I wasn't aware that they had stopped.

"Not so much anymore, and not enough to notice that you go to a gym" Peter tells me.

"Yeah, MMA seems a little brutal for you Caffrey, why do you go there?" Diana asks

"Nicest gym in my 2 miles, I really just go for the weights and the punching bags" I tell them.

Even though I go every night to spar with the varied men and women that train at the gym, not to mention the semi-illegal fights that I take part in every week. I always feel the need to keep up with the strict training regimen that Bruce has had me on since I was younger, although adjusted for my changing body and muscle tone. The only thing that I haven't gotten to work on so much is the actual field work, I do on occasion leave my tracker in my bed and go out on patrol as Nightwing, but not enough to get caught, and not enough that anyone has ever recognised me, or at least not enough to tell the media that Nightwing was spotted in New York.

And I always make sure practice falling and running on the roofs in my radius, but it's always more fun in Gotham where we can play tag and follow the leader, hide and seek and occasionally capture the flag, it makes it all the more fun, running through the night with my family around me, laughing and having fun, the best way we know how.

"Neal!" I hear Peter say, his face a bit too close to mine for comfort.

"Woah, what Peter?" I say, snapping out of my thoughts, only to see Jones and Diana already out of the elevator, and Peter snapping his fingers in front of face to see when I would react.

"What the hell Neal? You just spaced out for like an entire minute" he says, tugging slightly on my arm to remove me from the elevator.

"Sorry Peter, I was a little distracted" I tell him truthfully.

He just shoots me a concerned look and starts walking towards the exit, me following behind him before shaking my head and catching up with the group. Making sure to paste on my happy face before dragging them away from the cars and to my favorite pizza parlor around the FBI offices.

When we arrive I revel in the hot burst of air that hits me as we walk inside, not to mention the delicious smell of pizza.

As we sit down to wait for our pizza I tune out the boring conversation that the three of them are having about a case that i'm not working on, and instead focus on the odd conversation I had with Damian this afternoon, nothing that he said was weird or out of place, but his tone, and the slight crack to his voice was telling me differently, which reminds me I need to call Alfred tonight, i'll ask him about what's going on with Damian later.

"What do you think Neal?" Peter asks, and the confused expression on my face must give me away as he rolls his eyes and repeats his question.

After lunch the three of us trudge back to the office in the increasingly biting wind and the snow that just started to fall, the three people walking along with me shooting me death glares the longer we walk through the snow, but i'm happy, the jitters seem to have worked out of my system with the combination of food and walking the few blocks to get to the pizza parlor.

When we arrive back at the office i'm left in the dust as the three of them rush inside towards the warm offices and stale air, but I linger for a minute longer, breathing in the crisp winter air and closing my eyes, imagining I was back in Gotham, one of my family members beside me as we patrolled the streets, shifting like shadows through the night, blending seamlessly into the backdrop of our city, the wind whipping through my hair, a grin stretching onto my face.

When I open my eyes though, i'm greeted by the still unfamiliar city of New York, I feel the grin slowly melt off my face, I feel a pang of homesickness hit me low in my gut, the frown on my face deepening, I let out a sigh as I take one last breath of crisp fresh air before I turn and walk back into the building, working to mask the look on my face with a smile, and even though it's forced, it's familiar, and it lessens the pangs of homesickness slamming through my body, so I keep my posture straight, my hat crooked and an easy smile on my lips, making sure I look the part of Neal Caffrey before I exit the elevator.

I keep my eyes diverted to the floor as I make my way over to my desk, not wanting to talk with anyone right now, although that, along with not recognising the car that was parked in front of me out on the curb, are my fatal mistakes, and I realise why when I see what's waiting for me at my desk.

The pangs cease completely when I hear the deep growling voice that belongs to my father, my head snaps up as I see Jones, Diana, Peter and Bruce all standing in front of my desk, in the middle of what seems to be an argument, if the pitch of Bruce's voice has anything to do with it.

"I need to speak with Neal Caffrey alone" Bruce all but growls

"Not until you tell me why you need to speak with him, and how you know him" Peter growls back, although his voice is higher than Bruce's, and he seems to be growing uneasy in the face of Bruce's unrelenting glare.

I quickly take the last few steps to put myself into their line of sight, watching the uneasy look that Peter shoots me and the relieved one that I get from B.

"What are you doing here B?" I ask hesitantly, even as my body finds itself sidling closer to him, resisting the urge to throw my arms around him, it's been too fucking long since i've been able to hug my dad, 7 years to be exact.

"I need to speak with you alone, but Agent Burke here doesn't seem keen on the idea" Bruce tells me with barely restrained anger, and it's only then that I see that tumultuous emotions flashing in B's eyes, anger, grief, sadness, and pain.

I let out a small gasp, cutting off Peter's response as I turn and latch my hand onto Bruce's lapel, pulling his body so that it's facing me, studying his eyes and seeing the truth written in the lines of his face. Something happened.

"What happened B?" I ask quietly, my voice tight with emotion.

"I need to speak with you alone" he repeats, the walls behind his eyes slamming shut as he realises that I know something is wrong, shutting me off from whatever is going in inside his head.

"No, absolutely not, not until you tell me why you need to talk alone, and how you two know each other" Peter says, his voice now tinged with confusion.

"Tell me Bruce" I demand, my voice cracking slightly as my mind rushes through all the possibilities that could have caused a reaction like this from my stoic father.

When he doesn't respond after a moment, I quickly look around the office, only to find it empty, everyone else is at lunch, seeing as the four of us took our lunch break an hour early, everyone else has now cleared out, we're alone.

"B" I repeat, pushing the fist holding onto his jacket into his chest, hoping to prompt a reaction.

"it's Jason" he forces out through gritted teeth.

I feel the breath catch in the back of my throat, what happened to my baby brother this time?

"Dad, what about Jason?" I ask, my shaking voice revealing how much his words are affecting me.

"He's dead" Bruce finally says, the walls behind his eyes crumble as I look up at him, and I feel my hands start to shake, followed by a loud ringing in my ears.

"No no no fuck. nonononononono" I mutter, my knees caving as the truth behind his statement hits me, my free hand crashing into Bruce's chest as I feel tears start to roll down my face.

I repeatedly smash my fist into Bruce, needing to hit something, trying to release the tight feeling that has settled in my chest, constricting slowly, my lungs struggling to draw in air, my head shaking back and forth as I try to deny what he told me, but I know he wouldn't ever lie to me about something like this.

"You can't, no, it's not, why? no" I say, stumbling over my words, even though I don't know what it is i'm trying to say.

"I'm so sorry Dick" Bruce says gently, carding his hand through my hair and pulling my head to rest against his chest, and I melt into him, feeling like i'm 19 again, being told that Jason is dead, again.

As I listen to the steady heartbeat below my ear I start to feel like I can breathe again, and the short laboured breaths that I was taking slowly start to melt into deep shuddering breaths as I take in that my baby brother is dead, and he isn't coming back this time.

I twist my fingers into the back of Bruce's jacket, trying to steady my shaking body as my dad holds me up, an arm around my shoulders supporting my sagging weight, and the hand on my head repeatedly carding through my hair, and it brings me back to when I was a kid, when I had nightmares and I would go and find Bruce, usually in his study, and he would hold me close and run his hand through my hair as I listened to him reading me a book, the deep rumble of his voice always calming me back to sleep before the book was over, but this isn't a nightmare, and a hug and a book can't fix it this time.

For the moment I can't bring myself to pull away from the comfort that B is offering, even though I know it won't fix anything, it makes me feel better, and as Bruce tightens his grip on me, I know it makes him feel better too, to be able to hold one of his sons, even though he won't ever get to hold his other again.

So I grip him tighter, not willing to let go, not even when I hear Peter start asking questions, like how we know each other, why I called him dad, why he called me Dick, who Jason is, and so on and so forth. But I don't listen, I just cling tighter to the only thing grounding me right now, I let the tears roll down my face, and I try to breath through the tight ball of grief now curled in my chest.

After a few minutes, when neither of us respond to the questions that Peter, Jones, and Diana are hurling at us, they finally quiet down, and they tell Bruce that people are going to be arriving back from lunch soon, and that we should probably go somewhere more private.

Bruce gently moves my body so that i'm standing next to him, tucked into his side and he follows Peter wordlessly through the doors, back to the elevators and then to the cars, but instead of Peter's car like I was expecting, we stop in front of a limo, a familiar limo, and I realise why when a figure steps out of the front seat, walking around the car to open our door, and a small smile finds its way onto my face as I see Alfred, with tears shining in his eyes, and he turns and opens his arms as Bruce gives my stiff body a nudge in his direction, and then i'm off, I fly towards him, only to slow down at the last second so as not to hurt him, I hug him tightly and the tight ball in my chest loosens a bit as he wraps his arms around my shoulders, returning my hug.

"It's so nice to see you Master Dick, I wish it were under better circumstances" Alfred tells me, letting me go and then indicating to the backseat of the limo, and when I bend down to peer in i'm relieved to see the red rimmed eyes of my other two brothers.

They look up at me as I quickly slide into the warm car, I sit down on the bench seat as close to Damian as I can, throwing my arm around his shoulders and pulling him close as he turns and burrows his face into my chest, hiding his tear streaked cheeks and sliding his arms around me, I look over his head at Tim who slides close enough to Damian that i'm able to put my arm around his shoulders and pull him closer to me and Damian, and Bruce completes our little broken family as he slides down next to me and pulls me back into his side, Damian and Tim following suit until we are all leaned up against someone else, each of us drawing comfort from the others.

I pick my head up as the door closes, the sharp wind that had been invading the warmth of the car now cut off, and I look across from me to see the now extremely confused and concerned faces of Peter, Jones, and Diana, looking back at me.

"I was talking to you 2 hours ago Damian, when did this happen?" I ask after a few minutes of driving in silence.

"Last night, he was out by himself, he got jumped, there were a lot of them, he didn't call for help in time, by the time we got there he was already bleeding out" Bruce supplies.

"You called me and I was not sure what to do, so I answered the phone and tried to act normally" Damian tells me softly.

"We figured it would be better to tell you in person" Tim says.

I just nod, letting my head fall to the side and onto B's chest, relaxing slightly as my head moved along with his steady breaths.

"What is this Neal? How do you know the Wayne's and who is Jason? What the hell is going on?" Peter suddenly spoke up, and I could feel Damian about to snap at him, so I quickly placed my hand on his head, letting him know that I would get it.

"My name isn't really Neal Caffrey, it's Dick Grayson, adopted son of Bruce Wayne. I wanted to try and live a normal life, hence my Neal ID, although I guess a thief isn't really normal, but, well, we're all a little weird. I obviously kept in close contact with my family, I've actually been happy here in New York, even though I could have called Bruce to bail me out at any point, I wanted to see where the FBI thing would go. I made a best friend" I say, indicating towards Peter "and other close friends" now indicating towards Jones and Diana "and no, I wasn't ever planning on telling you guys any of this, but when my commutation came up I was going to split my time between here and Gotham, living a double life. The reason my grand plans have been cut short would be that my baby brother, Jason, is now dead, so if you could now please hold your questions until i'm just a little bit more stable, that would be awesome" I tell them, trying to force a smile onto my face, but I can tell it falls flat.

"Neal" Peter starts, but I ignore him, instead opting to once again bury my face in Bruce's chest, hiding from the world once more.

A few minutes later and we have pulled up at my apartment, I watch as Peter, Jones and Diana file out of the car, and then Bruce reaches forward and closes the door, muffling their angered protests.

I lean forward and open the window a bit, leaning my head out to talk to them.

"I've got to go now, my family needs me, but i'll be back, and i'll answer your questions then" I tell them, reaching down and cutting off my anklet, pushing it out the window and letting it drop into the snow at my angered friends feet.

I hit the button to roll the window back up and sit down, leaning back into my dad and pulling Damian and Tim back into my side as the limo pulls away from the curb.

"Do you really mean that Dick? Are you going to come back here?" Tim asks me after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes, I'll come back, eventually" I tell him quietly.

 **AN** thoughts? Good? Bad? Meh? Lemme know what you think. :)


End file.
